Tapas: Inner Fire Meditation - podcast episode cover

Tapas: Inner Fire Meditation

May 08, 202513 minEp. 19
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Episode description

In this meditation, I focus on the Niyama, Tapas: Inner Fire. We need to sit in the fire of our pain to create rebirth and growth. Join me. 

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Transcript

Thank you for joining me today for our meditation on the Niyama tapas. The Fire within. So just take a moment to find a position in which you can close your eyes, a space for you to quiet the mind and give signals to your body that it's time to relax. There isn't anyone in this world who knows what you need more than you do. So when you find that position, invite your body to settle in. Invite yourself to feel the weight of your hips, your feet, your arms, the weight of your head.

And the weight of the thoughts within. As you relax your body, bring to mind consciously that the earth is holding you right now. Bring that awareness into the light that you are being held by the universe, by the earth, and by this body of yours. And if you can, I invite you to close your eyes. And if that doesn't feel safe, find a soft gaze and let your eyes rest on something that is not moving, that is not making noise, that is not speaking.

And then bring your awareness to the rhythm of your breath, the rise, and the fall of your tummy. There's no need to change it. Just notice today we are going to meet a fire. A fire to be trusted. A fire to befriend, not to be feared. But understood today we meet the inner fire of healing. Each of us at some point has felt it. the deep sudden burn of inferiority it might come when an old wound stirs when a voice from long ago pops up and whispers, you're not enough. You're not doing enough.

Look, you're failing. Why are you even trying? And when that fire flares inside of us, the instinct is almost always the same. Retreat, run, hide. Hide in the shadows where no one can see us. Limping our way toward loving ourselves, where no one can see the ache in our soul. This is the fire of inferiority. I promise you though. However counterintuitive it might feel. The fire of inferiority is not a punishment. It is a signal.

It is a signal that a wound needs tending to right now, left unattended. The fire of inferiority can collapse inward. Curling our bodies into shame, isolation, despair. It can drive us underground beneath our own lives, beneath our consciousness. And it is there that nothing new can grow yet observed with clarity observed with Satya truthfulness. Observed with my favorite ZA nonviolence. The fire of inferiority becomes the first spark of healing. I promise you it's not asking you to vanish.

In fact, quite the opposite. It's calling you to stay, to stay present with the burn, to tend to the wound and rise amongst and through the flames, not run away from them. You know, it's common knowledge that our federal lands across forests, across open spaces, rangers and caretakers of the earth set fires on purpose. Controlled burns, the fire burns through the underbrush consuming all the dead brittle leaves, the needles, the tree trunks that branches to feed and make space for renewal.

And without these fires, the forests would choke the soil would harden. And the old brush would build and build and build until the first strike of lightning. The first trigger would not bring rebirth, but catastrophe. We cannot let our bodies be containers for untended wounds because catastrophe will certainly come. Fire saves the forests, it feeds them. And the same is true for us. When we feel the fire of inferiority, we are given a choice.

Hide and let it fester and build and build and build for catastrophe or stay. Tend to the fire, tend it into something sacred, something that clears the old debris for new growth. The Yoga Sutras speak of this discipline. Here's one of my favorites, quote. By self-discipline and purification, the body and senses are refined and make ready for the realization of the self pain is not proof of failure. Pain is proof of hurt.

When we sit with our hurt, we begin to purify it so that we can see the landscape of what has happened to us that we did not choose our pain. Our pain is there for us to grow into wisdom so that we can help prevent similar pain in the world. Our pain is the teacher for the whole universe. Now bring your attention to the fire of inferiority that has lived with you. Where is it in your body that it inflames when you encounter old wounds, old voices, old experiences?

Notice where that lands in the body. And then imagine right there, right there where it burns a tiny flame. Nothing wild, nothing dangerous. Just a small controlled flame. This is your controlled burn. It belongs to you. It does not burn to shame you. It burns to show you the way. Can you notice the sensation of sitting with your burn? Perhaps it's uncomfortable. Maybe you wanna get up and grab your phone or go on a walk to look away from yourself. Whatever it is, notice and please stay.

Please practice the burn. Let's use the breath with each inhale. Imagine feeding this fire with courage, with remembrance of everything you've ever done and everything that has been done to you. And with each exhale, imagine releasing some dry, brittle debris. Some old story, some shield that you wear that no longer helps you, some mask where you hide your wounds. Breathing in feeds the fire with courage to stay. Breathing out releases the dead story. You can stay here.

You are not burning alive. You are being revealed. You are becoming. The self that cannot burn is what will remain. The fire of inferiority says you are not enough. And the fire of tapas says, you are more than you have ever dared to believe. So stay here and let it burn away. Stay. When you're ready, let the image of the fire gently fade. And take a big long inhale and a big, long exhale and see if you can still feel the warmth of the flame. I invite you to carry this warmth with you.

Out of your meditation, out into the wild, into your life, into your work, to your friends, to your family, share all of your fire so they can see there is a pathway too. Remember, pain doesn't mean you're failing. Pain is the very fire that makes you whole. Within the ashes of old wounds, the soil is rich, fertile, and alive. Something beautiful is waiting to grow, but only if you stay Something beautiful is waiting to grow, but only if you stay. Stay with the fire. It knows the way.

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